


pulchra dicuntur quae visa placent

by gdcee



Category: Helix Waltz (Video Game)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Married Sex, Mirror Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn with Feelings, Scottish!Barris, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-15 02:30:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17520500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gdcee/pseuds/gdcee
Summary: Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but when you cannot see it yourself, an oral argument can be very convincing.





	pulchra dicuntur quae visa placent

It had all started innocently enough.

Barris was home, away from work on a rare and well-deserved sabbatical. Spring had just come to Finsel, and Magda had been looking forward to spending this day out in the manor grounds with him.

Unfortunately, Magda's plans had not taken into account the rain that often accompanied the arrival of Spring.

She couldn't remember the line of conversation that led Barris to mention the attic. In any case, she was curious to see what old knick knacks were hiding away, so off to the attic they went.

The Sakan manor attic was large, very dark and quite dusty. The rain sounded different up there. It echoed throughout the attic, not loud, but less muffled and more present in the space.

"Should I go downstairs to fetch a lamp?"

"There should be a lantern or some candles here." Barris closed the door behind him. Since it was day, the lamps in the hallway had not been lit. Leaving the door open would have done little to illuminate the room. "Let's have a look around first." 

After a few minutes of fumbling about in the dark, Magda came across an old candle lantern. As she squinted in the darkness, trying to look for something to light the nearly depleted candle in the lantern, a loud thump and a muffled crash sounded nearby.

"Barris?" She turned abruptly in the direction of the noise, her voice tight with worry, "What's happened? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he called, "Just tripped over something. I found candles and a matchbox though!"

A new candle was placed in the lantern and summarily lit. Barris leaned in closer to her, squinting at her face.

"Ah, you've got a little bit of dust here..." he wiped his thumb over her cheek. His knuckles grazed over the swell of her lips. Magda was a little embarrassed at the rush of heat to her face at his touch.

Admittedly, they had both been quite busy of late. For almost the entirety of the past month, they'd both fallen asleep upon retiring to bed, too exhausted from the day's labours to enjoy the conjugal aspects of their marriage.

Even so, she thought, it was rather silly that she was blushing at something as innocent as the touch of her husband's hand on her face. Ridiculous, really.

"We should check on whatever it is you tripped over," she blurted.

"Right, of course."

Upon further investigation, it turned out that the thing Barris had tripped over was a box of Barbara's old toys.

"Miss Nesbitt!" He lifted a rather unfortunate looking doll from the dusty box, "It's been a while since I've seen you."

Magda stared blankly at Miss Nesbitt. She was half-bald, had a large, visible crack along the side of her face and one missing eye.

"Miss Nesbitt is...quite unique," she said.

"That's one way of putting it," he chuckled softly and carefully placed the doll back in the box, "Nesbitt was Barbara's favourite doll. She used to take her everywhere on her adventures. Hence her rather...well-loved appearance."

The sudden image of a little girl with Barris's hair and freckles and her own blue eyes playing with the well-loved Miss Nesbitt popped into her mind.

Magda shook her head. It was a little too early in their marriage to be thinking about that, regardless of her mother's frequent hints for grandchildren. Perhaps it was selfish of her, but she didn't feel ready to share the life she had with Barris with a child just yet.

Still, it would be nice to someday have a little girl or a boy with his eyes or his hair. She was sure a child with his smile would be the loveliest creature in existence.

They continued to potter about the attic, rediscovering forgotten treasures and uncovering new ones. All throughout their expedition, the rain continued on unabated outside, drumming against the manor with a hypnotic cadence.

One particularly interesting find was a large, ornate mirror. It stood in the middle of the large attic space surrounded by various types of furniture, all covered by dust cloths.

The mirror was clearly very old, but well-made. There were no cracks or signs of tarnishing - just the layer of dust that had collected along the ridges of the elaborate carvings of the gilded frame.

Out of the corner of her eye, Magda spotted something large, rectangular and covered in a dust cloth tucked away behind some boxes and leaning against the wall. She left the lantern in front of the mirror and went to investigate.

"Could be a painting," Barris mused when she asked what he thought it was.

"It's quite large," she said, "If it is, it must have cost a fortune to commission."

"Only one way to find out." He grasped the edge of the dust cloth and pulled. A soft rumble of thunder sounded in the distance.

It was definitely a painting.

And _what_ a painting it was.

Magda felt the blood rush to her face at the scene depicted.

The artist had rendered in exquisite, sensuous detail the lithe, writhing forms of several naked women engaged in what appeared to be some ancient ritual dance.

"Well," Barris said bluntly, "This is one painting I definitely have not seen before and don't particularly wish to see again."

He attempted to throw the dust cloth back over the offending object to cover it up, but it was too large. The dust cloth just slipped over the edges and flopped down.

"...I'm going to find a chair."

With that, Barris stalked away, leaving Magda alone with the painting.

She couldn't seem to look away from the scene. Whoever the artist was, they were _good_. The mastery of their craft was obvious in how they had used their brushstrokes to transform oil paint into soft, smooth and pliant flesh. The expert application of pink undertones made it seem like the women had real, warm blood pumping under their flawless skin.

_Flawless skin._

As if in a trance, Magda walked back to the mirror. She stood with her back facing the mirror and lifted her skirts to examine the backs of her legs.

It had been warm enough today that she had decided to do without stockings today. Magda stared at her reflection, at the ugly scars from the fire that splattered the backs of her calves. 

She knew those awful deformities covered far more than her legs. Some of her lower back and her buttocks had been seared by the flames as well. On days when she felt particularly despondent, she felt her back bore a greater resemblance to cooked meat than human skin.

Magda wished that something could be done to wipe the ugly things from her skin, but the scars were too old. Not even magic would do anything to remove them now.

She took some comfort in the fact that Barris did not seem to mind them. Even so, she still found it difficult to undress with her back to him. At times, she did not even want to sleep with her back facing him in their bed to spare him the sight of her wretchedness.

Barris's reflection stepped into view at the edge of the mirror. Magda let her skirts fall back down to cover herself and turned to face her husband with a strained smile.

"Found your chair?"

"I did," he glanced at the mirror for a moment and then back at her, "What were you looking at?"

"...the scars," she admitted, "I hate the things. They make my legs look like a slab of bacon."

"Is that opinion or an objective fact?"

"It...it may be opinion, but it's obvious that they are not pleasing. _Pulchrum est id quod visum placet_."

"Hmmm," Barris stepped closer, a curious glimmer in his sharp, green eyes, "The beautiful is that which pleases being seen."

"It is not an untrue statement."

Magda watched the soft light from the lantern play over his features. His hair almost seemed to glow in the candlelight; golden and red like fire.

The drumming beat of the rain grew faster and louder, as if to echo the pounding of her heart in her chest.

Barris leaned down. Thinking he meant to kiss her, Magda looked up, lips expectantly parted. Instead, his head tilted away from her face so that his mouth brushed against her ear.

"Shall I tell you what is pleasing to my sight, love?" He murmured, low, deep and smooth. She shivered, her breath leaving her parted lips as a soft, needy moan.

Barris was by no means a passive lover, but he rarely initiated such encounters as these. After their wedding, it had taken her a full two weeks to completely convince him that she welcomed his touches and kisses, and that he did not need to ask for her permission everytime he wanted to show physical affection.

Even now, his natural instinct was towards caution. He would not do anything unless he was certain that she wanted it. That usually meant that she had to make the first move or just directly tell him what she wanted.

"Here?" She glanced about. This wasn't the first time they'd enjoyed each other outside the confines of their bedroom, but _that_ was hardly a regular occurrence. Also, this was a fair bit dustier than the library. Or his study.

"Yes," his nose brushed against her cheek as he brushed his lips, warm and teasing, along the edge of her jaw. "Do you object, _leannan_?" He purred.

Oh Goddess preserve her, he was using _Gàidhlig_. Her insides always went all fluttery when he did that.

"No," she whispered hoarsely. 

Magda felt the flicker of his smile and the soft, deep rumble of his laughter against her heated skin.

Her hands quickly moved to untie his cravat. She had only just finished undoing it when he drew back, his big, warm hands gently enveloping hers and coaxing them away from his shirt buttons.

"Now, _these_ ," Barris kissed her fingertips, one by one, "Your clever, quick little hands." His kisses moved up to her knuckles. "Seeing them pleases me very much."

"I dare say my hands have pleased you in other ways besides sight," she quipped, smiling with satisfaction at the flush that crept up his faintly freckled cheeks.

"That they have," he chuckled, carefully turning over her hands so that her palms faced up, "Perhaps later. Now," he pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to one of her wrists. She breathed in sharply at the sensation. "I believe I was going through the list of the many pleasing aspects of my wife?

"Your wife," she breathed, "Has no objections. But she would like to state for the record that if proceedings extend beyond a reasonable length of time..."

"Your husband," he replied, releasing her hands so he could begin unbuttoning her blouse, "Humbly requests his wife for patience in this matter."

"Motion..." she sighed softly as Barris licked the side of her neck, right where her pulse fluttered under her skin, "Motion granted."

"Duly noted. Now where was I? Ah, yes," he kissed his way up the length of her throat, "Your long, elegant neck - so fair, so lovely, so perfect for kissing." As if to demonstrate this point, Barris pressed his mouth to the spot where her neck met her jaw and sucked.

Magda moaned, her hands flying up to clutch at his shoulders. She lifted her head and arched into his warm mouth like a flower towards sunlight.

He drew back with one last drag of his tongue over the tender, love-bruised mark. She shivered, feeling the faint, pleasurable throb of the bruise echoed in the ache between her legs.

Barris's hands came up to cradle her face almost reverently. Magda became faintly aware of the cool air of the attic against her chest and bare stomach; her blouse was hanging loose and undone.

"Every part of your dear, wonderful face," he murmured, "Your bright, clever eyes that see what so many don't." He kissed the tip of her nose. "Your pretty nose that turns pink when it's cold."

She giggled, and he smiled, brushing his thumb across the swell of her lips.

"Your mouth." He sighed, " _Mo chridhe_ , your _mouth_. Your witty speech, your smiles, your laughter-"

She parted her lips, taking his thumb into her mouth, boldly laving her tongue over the length of him.

His eyes fluttered shut for a moment and a deep humming groan rumbled in his throat, as if he were recalling the other times her mouth had been on him in more sensitive areas.

"- _the way your lips look wrapped around my cock_."

She moaned lustily, her hands grasping at his shirt. His mouth slanted over hers as his hands slid down over her still-covered breasts. Magda raked her fingers through his hair, savouring the heat and taste of him.

She hadn't worn a corset today, instead opting for one of those new-fangled Rayorcan brassieres. This one had been custom made by Rebecca, and unlike most brassiere designs, fastened from the front.

Magda was fairly sure that Barris had never seen her in this particular item - let alone undressed her - but it took him no more than a quick glance down and some deft motions of his fingers to unhook the undergarment and expose her to his heated gaze.

"Do you know," he kissed the hollow between her neck and collarbone, "That every time you come to my office, it takes all my self control to not _take_ you right there and then? To not bend you over my desk and _fuck_ you until you can't walk?"

"Barris..." his name fell from her lips as a jittery, staccato whimper. Desire and embarrassment flared hot in her veins at the blunt, carnal nature of his words.

" _Mo chridhe,_ " he purred, " _A chiall mo chridhe_ , I fear that if I told you of all the sinful, filthy thoughts I have of you daily, you would surely repudiate me."

"I surely would not - _did you say daily?_ \- ohhhhh-" He kissed the delicate skin of her breast, achingly close to the tight peak of her nipple.

"Mmm, yes," he hummed, "I did say _daily_."

Magda thought of some of the things the older married ladies said at the balls and salons.

She thought of how they would scoff and sneer at their younger peers who were rosy and pie-eyed with love.

_This is soon pass, they would say. The spark will soon fade. Soon, you will tire of your husband and he of you. You will be content enough, but never again will the thought of your husband warm your blood. Nor will you warm his._

Magda had been married to Barris for more than half a year now, and even so, she still loved and wanted him as much as she had when she had kissed him in the manor gardens and had told him _yes, yes, I will, yes_.

Well, stuff those women, she thought, What did they know?

She sighed and shivered as Barris licked a slow circle around her areola and his hand gently cupped her other breast, caressing the soft, sensitive skin.

"We are..." She gasped sharply as her husband took the tip of her breast into his hot, wet mouth, "We are well-matched in that regard - oh, _Barris_ -" His tongue flicked against the tight, sensitive point of her nipple.

Magda grasped his hair and pushed against him, urgent and eager. She could feel her underthings sticking to her skin, wet from her arousal. She squeezed her thighs together and whimpered when he moved to take her other breast in his mouth.

Dimly, she became aware that her husband was coaxing her to step backwards. Trusting, she did so until the backs of her knees hit a soft surface and she fell back onto what appeared to be a dust-cloth covered chaise longue.

She pulled him down with her and their combined weight sent a little cloud of dust into the air. Barris sneezed, his nose wrinkling and twitching like a rabbit. She laughed and kissed his freckled nose and then his mouth.

"I think I should like to go through my own list of the things I find pleasing about you," she murmured.

Barris smiled the soft, dazed smile of a man smitten and utterly in love. He laid his head against her chest and kissed the spot just over where her heart was.

"Patience, _leannan_ ," he moved further down, his hands working at the fastenings on her skirt. "I still have a few more things to check off my list."

Her skirt and petticoat were quickly shucked off. Magda sighed in relief as her husband slipped off her underthings. Her relief was short-lived as the _damnable_ man instead nipped and kissed down the length of her legs.

"You," Barris ran his tongue along the inner join between her calf and thigh, " _Leannan_ , have the loveliest legs in the whole of Finsel." He slipped off her shoes and kissed the delicate curve of each ankle.

"Seen many legs, then, have you?" She huffed, lips quirked in a wry, teasing smile.

"Saw plenty of leg in that painting earlier," he muttered, "As far as I'm concerned, yours far exceed theirs."

Did they really? Magda couldn't help but think that she would be worthy of the assessment if those _scars_ weren't there.

She was startled from her musings when Barris straightened, abruptly hiked her legs up and lowered his head to her damp, blond curls.

"Look up," he said quietly.

Magda raised her head and was met with the arresting sight of her reflection in the huge, ornate mirror.

She looked thoroughly debauched - her hair tangled, her cheeks flushed, and her blouse unbuttoned and hanging loose about her shoulders to expose her breasts. Her legs were spread eagle with Barris between them, his hands helping to hold them up.

The scars on the backs of her legs were on full display in the mirror. Even the soft golden light from the lantern could not disguise how ugly and red they were.

Magda quickly looked away and back to the more pleasing sight of her husband's face.

"You're not looking in the mirror, _leannan_ ," he murmured with a lilting sing-song cadence.

"I'd rather look at you."

Barris hummed quietly in reply, brushing slow, teasing kisses and licks on the sensitive parts of her inner thighs as his warm, rough hands caressed her - always agonisingly close, but never touching the place she wanted him most.

Magda whined and writhed under his relentless torment. Her cunt ached and clenched needily, wanting his fingers, his mouth, his tongue on her to ease the maddening fire he was stoking in her body. 

"Look in the mirror, _leannan_ ," he repeated gently, "Look-" She nearly sobbed at the tickling kiss he pressed to the delicate juncture between her thigh and cunt, "-and I'll give you what you want."

Magda bit her lip. She had no desire to look at her ruined skin, but her need for her husband overpowered her dread. She lifted her gaze away from him and back to her reflection.

She shivered, keening softly as he leisurely dragged his tongue over her cunt - from her wet, slick opening to her throbbing, sensitive clit. She watched her reflection sigh and moan when she did. She watched how her legs trembled and her toes curled when Barris did something particularly sinful with his mouth.

She looked like a mad, wild thing in the mirror - her face red and shiny from sweat, her body writhing and grinding against him like a snake. Barris's head and body blocked her cunt from view. If he were to move...

The thought of seeing what her husband saw - to see herself spread wide open, pink, flushed, swollen and obscenely wet - both shamed and excited her.

With every movement of his mouth on her, he brought her closer and closer to the edge. Every time she felt close to finishing, he would slow his movements, keeping the promise of release hovering just tantalizingly out of reach. She palmed her breasts, pinching and twisting her kiss-swollen nipples, crying out at the sweet, aching pleasure but failing to bring herself over the edge.

"You said you would give me what I wanted," she whined in frustration, her voice ragged and desperate.

"I will," he murmured. His deep, soothing burr vibrated against her - a wonderful and tormenting sensation. "Look at your legs. Tell me what you see."

"Scars," she gasped unthinking, "Ugly, red scars."

She felt his mouth pull away from her. She cried out, half-mad and close to tears. She tried to close her thighs around his head to keep him where she wanted, but his hands firmly held her legs spread apart.

"Magda," he said quietly, "Do not think about how you acquired the scars. Look again, and describe them without using charged or prejudicial language." He smoothed his hands over her trembling legs in a calming, soothing fashion. "Can you do that for me, _leannan_?"

Magda looked back at him, her chest heaving with her deep, gulping breaths. The subtle signs of his arousal - his heavy-lidded gaze, the flush on his cheeks and the tense way he held his shoulders - told her that despite how composed Barris sounded, he was just as affected as her.

He brushed a gentle kiss on her stomach, a touch meant to comfort rather than tease.

"I know you can do this, love," he said.

Magda breathed in deeply once more and nodded. She turned her eyes back to the mirror and looked, really looked at the scarred backs of her legs.

"There is noticeable hyperpigmentation," she said carefully, holding back a whimper when he put his mouth back on her. "The scars are raised, more so around the calves than the thighs."

"An accurate assessment. Tell me, _leannan_ , do they in any way resemble cooked meat? A slab of bacon?"

Magda had to admit that they did not.

"Are they ugly?"

"They..." her breath hitched, her eyes fluttering shut, momentarily distracted by the hot curl of his tongue over her clit. "They are not beautiful."

"Answer the question, _leannan_ ," Barris's voice was so low and rough, it was nearly a growl. "Are they ugly?"

"No," she whispered, "No, they are not, for Goddess's sake, Barris, Love, _Love, please just let me come-_ "

His hands pressed into her thighs hard enough that she was sure they would leave bruises. He worked her like a man possessed, and when she felt him carefully push back the the little hood of flesh covering her clit and _suck_ -

Release came upon her violently, a surge of sharp, searing, overwhelming ecstasy. If Magda had not clapped her hands over her mouth to muffle herself, she was sure her impassioned screams would have brought every servant in the manor running to the attic.

Barris pulled away, breathing heavily, his cheeks and mouth liberally smeared with her issue. His eyes had a wild and slightly dazed look, as if he couldn't quite believe what he had just done. He moved his hands away from her still shaking legs and let her drop them to rest on his shoulders.

The dust cloth covering the chaise longue she was lying on was damp, almost soaked in the area between her legs. If she wasn't quite so overcome at the moment, she might have been a little embarrassed over that.

"Are you alright?"

Magda groaned, nodded slowly and blindly reached out for his hand. Barris kissed her knuckles and gently entwined their fingers.

They lay together in silence for a while, listening to the slow drum of the rain echoing in the attic.

"They may not be ugly," she said finally, "But they are not beautiful."

"Everything about you is beautiful to me, _mo chridhe._ " He ran his thumb over the raised line of one of the scars on her inner thigh and kissed it tenderly. "Things that give pleasure when they are perceived are beautiful. I love you, so seeing you gives me pleasure, therefore you are beautiful. Your scars are part of you, therefore they are also beautiful. _Quod erat demonstrandum._ "

He said it so bluntly, so sensibly - as if loving her and her scars was a simple, accepted fact, as true and constant as the sun rising every morning. Magda knew that Barris loved her - she did not need words to know that - but all the same, her heart leaped and sang in her breast every time she heard him utter those three words.

"I love you," she smiled, little tears of joy prickling at the corners of her eyes, "You perfect, impossible man - come here and let me kiss you."

Her legs slipped from his shoulders to hook around his hips as he moved up to kiss her. His still clothed chest dragged over her breasts. The friction of the fine cloth brushing over her tender, sensitive nipples was wonderful, pleasurable agony.

She could feel him hard against her belly as they kissed. Magda reached down between them to stroke the hard ridge of his cock through his trousers, relishing the way his hips thrust forward into her touch.

"Remind me again if you're still on that contraceptive tea?" Barris groaned, "If not, we're going to need to move to the bedroom. I don't usually carry the protectives in my pocket."

"I rather think you should," she murmured, "You did say that you've had thoughts of bending me over your desk at work."

"Thoughts, yes, but whether I'd actually do it..."

"Oh," she sighed, "Pity. And here I was looking forward to one day being ravished by my husband at his place of work..."

"I'll gladly ravish you right now if you tell me if you've been taking the tea," Barris growled, his expression caught somewhere between affection and exasperation.

"I have," she smiled, her fingers working to unbutton his trousers. A startled gasping moan passed her lips as his fingers began to leisurely stroke her slick, pulsing opening.

She hastily untied his drawers, gently grasping him and circling her thumb over the weeping tip of his cock. His hips bucked against her. He breathed a low, shaky groan and curled his fingers inside of her, thrusting and rubbing at _that_ spot while his thumb pressed against her too-sensitive clit.

Before Magda could even utter "Not yet, not yet!", pleasure abruptly surged and another wave of release crashed over her, as blinding and intense as the one before. She clawed at his back through the fabric of his shirt and bit down on his shoulder to muffle her cries.

She noted with some satisfaction how Barris shuddered against her, his face and neck flushed, his expression caught in that curious place between pain and ecstasy.

Despite her legs feeling like quivering jelly, she managed to hook them around his hips and press him closer. Magda felt wonderfully sated and tired and she didn't know if she could come again, but she wanted the sensation of him inside her all the same.

She wanted to bring him as much pleasure as he had brought her.

"So good," she sighed happily, luxuriating in the pleasant stretch and feeling of fullness and completion as he slid in. "Darling, you fill me up so well..."

Barris groaned shakily and muttered one of those phrases in Gàidhlig that he still refused to translate for her. Magda pressed the side of her foot against his lower back, encouraging him to move and take his pleasure.

She glanced over his shoulder at the mirror. The soft light from the lantern shone through his shirt, allowing the silhouette of his form to show through. She could just about make out the play of light and shadow on his muscles.

Her eyes skipped down to his trouser-covered rear and thought of how much nicer it would be to see his tight, firm, _naked_ arse as he _fucked_ into her-

A sweet, blissful warmth gradually bloomed within as he moved in her. Her eyes widened and she squeaked softly in surprise.

" _Oh_."

Barris buried one hand in her hair and kissed her, moaning helplessly into her mouth. His hips rocked against her once, twice. She felt him twitch and spend inside of her at the moment she unexpectedly came again.

There was no intensity or sharpness this time, no toe-curling, overpowering burst of pleasure. Just a long, steady pulse of soft, sweet, dreamy bliss that seemed to go on and on.

The rain was slowing now to a delicate, soothing pitter patter.

Barris pressed his forehead against hers as his breathing gradually returned to his usual rhythm. She bumped her nose against his, nuzzling him and humming with drowsy satisfaction. He smiled back, and kissed her once more, his soft eyes full of tender affection.

Magda spared one final glance at the mirror. Her reflection stared back, a serene, beatific smile on her lips, utterly content.

She looked happy, well-loved and beautiful - scars and all.

**Author's Note:**

> This may very well be the longest piece of one-shot filth I have ever written.
> 
> Once again, many thanks to Dutchess_Zabeth for being a wonderful editor and for providing a succinct and amusing summary.


End file.
